


When in Tinsel Town

by knightshade



Category: Knight Rider (1982)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Holidays, Humor, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 04:51:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2760242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightshade/pseuds/knightshade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cookies, mulled wine, and special effects for the holidays?</p>
            </blockquote>





	When in Tinsel Town

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Knight Rider, its characters, ideas, branches, divisions, or wholly owned subsidiaries. Glen A. Larson and Universal have that privilege. 
> 
> Author’s Notes: I can’t seem to write fluff without an unhealthy helping of cheese (my Wisconsin roots showing, perhaps). But that was the intent – holiday fluff. And how often do you get that in a fandom this small?   
> Oh, and I had no idea you could really bake cookies in a toaster oven. I learn something new every fic. :-)

“Devon, do you remember when you asked if there was anything you could do to help?” Bonnie called from the semi’s kitchenette, sounding slightly exasperated.

“Of course, what do you need?” he called back. He put down his glass of mulled wine and was starting to get up from his comfortable seat in the office section, when her head appeared around the doorway.

“Can you please keep Michael out of the kitchen?” she asked.

Devon smiled and sank back down into his seat as Michael appeared in the doorway. “Hey, I’m just helping.” There was powdered sugar on his hands and a streak of it through his hair. Now that he was paying attention, Devon noticed that Bonnie’s apron was covered with the confection.

“And how come RC gets to stay, huh?” Michael groused.

RC was right behind him. “Because I’m actually helping. If I can work with Bonnie under Kitt without getting in the way, I can do it in the kitchen.”

“RC also follows directions,” Bonnie said, pointedly.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Michael said, a self-satisfied grin giving him away as he came out to sit in the office with Devon and Kitt. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

“Something tells me being unwanted was somewhat strategic, Michael,” Kitt chastised.

“Which would you rather do, bake cookies or sit out here, drinking mulled wine, and anticipating eating cookies?” he asked, raising his glass.

“I can neither eat cookies nor drink mulled wine,” Kitt griped.

“Yes, but you have the most important job, pal.”

“Whatever you say, Michael. And either way, you need to clean the powdered sugar from your person before you even think about sitting in my cabin. I don’t want it all over my upholstery.”

“Neither do I,” Bonnie shouted from the kitchen.

“How does she do that?” Michael asked in a stage whisper that Bonnie most certainly overheard. “Does she have some sort of listening device that triggers when there’s the slightest hint of damage or mess involving Kitt?”

Devon silently shrugged and sipped his wine, unwilling to become a casualty in their verbal sparring.

“Eyes and ears in the back of her head,” RC shouted helpfully from the kitchen.

Bonnie didn’t take the bait herself so Michael changed topics completely. “So are you prepared to have your socks knocked off this year?” he asked Devon.

“Should I?”

“You bet, Devon. Bigger, better, more special effects. Knock your argyle socks off,” Michael boasted.

“Special effects?” Devon repeated.

“Yep.”

“In a manner of speaking,” Kitt clarified.

“Oh, come on, pal. Special effects.”

“Whatever you say, Michael.”

Bonnie and RC appeared at the doorway, Bonnie carrying a plate with cookies and RC carrying a tray holding four mugs.

“So what have we in honor of tonight’s festivities?” Devon asked.

“For your enjoyment this evening we have an assortment of gingerbread men and chopped pecan snowball cookies a la toaster oven, pretzel sticks brazed with white chocolate and candy cane ganache, and hot chocolate infused with amaretto,” Bonnie said, her voice something of a cross between an imitation of Devon’s accent and a snooty waiter’s. “Oh, and beware, RC poured.”

“Hey man, no reason to skimp.”

“Works for me,” Michael said.

Bonnie and RC set the trays down on the table and everyone acquired a mug and cookies.

“Excellent, as always,” Devon said, sampling the gingerbread.

“Thank you,” Bonnie said.

“So are we ready for the unveiling?” Michael asked, perching on Kitt’s hood.

Their eyes turned to the front of the service bay where a cone shaped object was shrouded in a black velvet sheet. Michael and RC had rigged it to the semi’s ramp winch earlier in the day.

“Kitt, would you do the honors?” Michael asked.

“Of course.” He dimmed the lights in the semi, then activated the winch. Slowly the black velvet drape rose to reveal a tree decorated with red baubles, snowy white garland, and a glittery star at the top. When the entire tree was revealed, Kitt activated its Christmas lights and turned off the semi’s interior lighting completely. The tree twinkled and glowed, casting warm light throughout the normally sterile service bay.

“And the piece de resistance?” Michael asked.

“Do I have to?” Kitt groused.

“Yes,” Michael responded firmly, brooking no argument.

“Oh very well.” He popped in a cassette tape and “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” filled the semi. The lights on the tree winked on and off in time with the music.

“See, Devon, special effects,” Michael said, grinning from ear to ear.

“I hardly think that a Christmas tree needs special effects,” Devon commented.

“Hey, man, when in Tinseltown …” RC started.

“Exactly!” Michael crowed.

They all sat quietly for a few minutes, admiring the tree.

Finally Devon raised his mug. “Well, I think we can declare the 4th Annual Foundation for Law and Government Mobile Unit Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony a success.”

“Here! Here!” Michael said as they all lifted their glasses.

\-----------------

-knightshade

December 12, 2014


End file.
